Black & Blond
by Rebellious Princess
Summary: Some cute Harry x Draco and Sirius x Lupin, more for my own amusement than anything. Nothing explicit, but clear slash, boy love themes. You have been warned, haters! [Also Ron x Hermione, just for fun!]
1. Let Them See

"Potter. Get out here."

Harry's head darted up sharply, and he glared at Malfoy from behind his thick black fringe. It was getting longer and shaggier by the day, was cut unevenly, and soaked through, as were his robes. He stood there with his arms crossed, lips pressed together tightly as he observed his … enemy? Rival? _Friend_? Who even knew anymore?

The rain had subsided now on this humid evening, but a few minutes ago, as the pair had stood together peacefully on the balcony, it had suddenly began to pour like a tropical rainforest. Harry had run inside, but now Malfoy was insisting that Harry come back out onto the balcony, so that they could continue their earlier conversation. All Harry wanted to do was change into some dry clothes.

Draco Malfoy turned his bleached blonde head to the side and pretended not to care as Harry eventually stepped forwards through the old wooden doors, out into the hot, clammy air of the quiet summer night.

"I am _not_ talking about this now," Harry announced firmly. He noticed Malfoy bite down on his bottom lip, then look down at his shoes, and Harry knew he would have to now prepare himself for the onslaught that was sure to follow. Typical, really. They had barely been alone two minutes, and already they were arguing.

Malfoy flicked a string of blond from his face with a quick head movement, but didn't say anything. He gave a tiny sigh, then wrapped his arms tightly around himself, clinging to his identically soaking dark robes to his torso. That was typical Malfoy for you – totally over dramatic in everything.

Harry didn't really want to talk. There were other things he wouldn't have minded doing with Malfoy on this uncomfortably warm evening – but talking, no. He was through with talking. He ran a strong hand through his full black head of hair before beginning to walk slowly across the balcony, his socks and shoes squelching together humourously with every step. Reaching the Slytherin student, he then proceeded to casually flick the emblem on Malfoy's robes, and droplets of rain flew off the soggy material.

"Mmm," Harry mused in a barely a whisper, biting his lip before his face broke into a wide, cheeky grin. "I wonder what your Dad would say?"

Malfoy's eyes widened in both interest and surprise. Harry's face was so close that Draco could see the short, dark stubble that ran across his peachy-skinned jaw line; feel every tiny vibration that came from his mouth as he spoke in his (finally broken, after getting through the few awkward ages of early adolesence) deep, throaty voice. It was a voice that was always so instantly recognisable to Malfoy, a voice that, no matter how hard he tried, he could never get out of his head.

"If we don't talk about this now," Malfoy began slowly, looking down and pretending to be interested in the cuffs of his robes, "When _are_ we going to talk about it?"

Harry sighed, moving away from Malfoy and instead leaning his heavy arms onto the balcony. He gazed out onto the view, paused for a moment to scratch an itch on the back of his neck, then let out a small, scoffing laugh.

"You know something, Malfoy?" he turned to look at the Slytherin student through his glistening green eyes. "You talk too much."

"Me?"

"You."

Malfoy was stood facing Harry sideways on. There was silence for a few seconds, the only sound being Malfoy's shoe tapping the floor in a gentle rhythm.

"And you lie," he said simply, before slowly turning his body to lean on the balcony and look out on the scenery as Harry did. Harry himself then made a great show of throwing his arms in the air and sighing heavily with exasperation.

"Look, that thing that happened with me and Ron-" he started carefully, holding a hand to his head, but Malfoy was now fully prepared for his outburst - and out it burst indeed.

"Yes, _that thing_! That thing that plagues my life, makes every treacherous day so much more difficult for me!" Malfoy's voice became higher as a huge lump rose into his throat. He curled one hand into a fist and beat his chest with it, gesturing to himself. "And everybody knows about it, Harry! _Everybody knows_."

Fighting fiercely to hold back tears, the Slytherin student clamped his teeth down onto his bottom lip again, and averted Harry's green-eyed gaze. Meanwhile, Harry was slouched with his elbows on the balcony and his whole head in his hands, clumps of black hair poking out between his fingers, trying not to listen. But he couldn't run away from it forever.

"People are going to want to know what happened with us last night, you know," Malfoy spat bitterly. "So, are you going to tell them about it? Are you going to strut around and boast, just like you did with _him_?"

"Don't be like that!" Harry snapped back, then his voice became quiet. "Look, I really don't want to talk about this now, okay? Not _now_."

Malfoy found himself lost for words. He was sure there had been a whole stream of nasty comments and acusing questions stored in his mind, ready to unleash on the Gryffindor student – but they had all gone. He didn't know what to say next. He didn't know what to do.

"Let's just go back inside, alright?" he muttered hopelessly, shrugging slightly. Feeling defeated, he turned on his heel, but had barely taken two steps forward before a strong hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Not yet," Harry pleaded, gently pulling the Slytherin back towards him, coaxing him in with the most handsome, begging facial expression he could muster.

It worked.

Malfoy slowly entered the grasp of the taller black-haired boy, who was now grinning quite broadly, and Malfoy couldn't help but go along with it, despite all of Harry's mistakes, his errors, his lies.

_Why do I keep doing this to myself?_ Malfoy wondered sadly, just as Harry pulled him closer, slipping a sneaking hand through Malfoy's open robes and placing a hand on the Slytherin's hip. With Harry gazing down fondly at him with those entrancing green eyes, his hand poised in the small of his back, Malfoy suddenly felt his robes begin to tighten just around the frontal trouser area.

_Oh, yeah. That's why._

"So, getting back to my earlier question," Harry smiled, swaying himself and Malfoy gently as if dancing to slow music, although there was none, "What _do_ you think your Dad would say?"

Malfoy laughed. "God, who knows? What would _Dumbledore_ say?"

"Ha, ha."

Harry slipped his arm further into Malfoy's robes and was now clutching the young boy around his slim waist, pulling him ever closer. Wetting his lips and taking in a small breath, Harry threw his gaze up to the sky before he spoke again.

"He'd probably say," he began quietly, before putting on his best impression of Professor Dumbledore, "'Boys, how could you! Don't you know that's breaking school rule number 246?'"

Malfoy laughed again, and was now very close to resting his head on Harry's broad chest. Eventually he gave into the temptation, leaning his soft cheek onto Harry's slightly itchy, and more than a little damp, grey pullover, while clutching at the dark outer robes with both hands. Harry continued to gaze down on his shorter companion, admiring how his heavy wet robes hung from his shoulders, and how sexy he looked with his tie off, and the top three or so buttons of his shirt undone. Harry kissed the top of his blond head.

"God, Malfoy, I want you. I want you so bad."

Not an offer. Not a question. Just a statement.

Malfoy's ears twitched, but he didn't dare move his head or say anything. What exactly was he supposed to say to something like that?

"I really need this, y'know," Harry continued whispering down to the mass of blonde that just reached his chin. "I don't care if it's wrong."

It was at this point that Malfoy finally decided it might be safe to look up. And there it was, staring down at him. The eyes, the hair, the teeth, the eyebrows, the stubble, heck, even the nose and the _ears_ … he couldn't take it anymore.

Harry sensed what Malfoy was thinking and feeling. He let one hand creep up and around to the back of Malfoy's head, before gently directing it closer to his own. There lips were almost touching, when:

"What if someone sees?" Malfoy whispered into Harry's mouth.

"Let them see," Harry whispered back.


	2. Padfoot and Professor

"Gods above," Sirius Black muttered to himself distractedly as he gazed through a pair of binoculars, an unforgiving and gluttonous smirk spreading across his handsome face. "Would you take a look at these two?"

Remus Lupin, sat on a bench with a book open on his lap at the far end of the balcony, chuckled. "I really don't think you should be spying on them, do you, Sirius?"

Sirius either chose to ignore Lupin, or was so completely engrossed in watching the dramatic scene before him unfold, that he didn't even hear.

"Hah, check out that grin," Sirius noticed, grinning himself. "Harry's got it bad this time."

Padfoot and the Professor were both lounging around this evening on their own balcony, one that hung from one of the many towers of Hogwarts, and one which they had unofficially claimed as their private place - for discussing highly urgent and important school matters, of course. Nothing else. Oh - except for being a peeping tom on ones Godson and the unlikely object of his affections.

Lupin decided to point this out to Sirius, who turned a dog-like ruffled head of long black hair over a bony shoulder and grinned with a mouthful of only slightly jagged white teeth.

Sirius and Lupin were certainly different. They were a strong contrast, just like Harry and Draco. Sirius was tall, gangly and pale, with an untidy mane of incredibly thick black hair and scruffy threadbare robes. He bounded about with all the enthusiasm of an eager dog: what's this, what's that, who are you, is this edible…? Lupin, on the other hand, was shorter, although just as stick-like, with brown hair flecked grey, and worn, toffee coloured skin flecked with more brown. He wore glasses, usually paired with a teacher-like frown or sarcastic smirk, and was more often than not carrying around a book of some size or description. Chalk and cheese indeed.

"I'm not _peeping_," Sirius insisted, and looked upwards as he searched for the right word. "I prefer to think of it as … uh, Godfathering."

"Sirius," Lupin said sternly, but with a smile, and reached a hand out to take the charmed binoculars. "It's time to stop now."

As Lupin held a hand out, Sirius' next exclamation overlapped what the Professor had said. "Look, they're really going for it --!"

"Enough!" Lupin laughed, now snatching the binoculars and depositing them in his large coat pocket before turning back to his seat and picking up his book. Sirius turned around, leaning on the balcony with both elbows, and faced Lupin.

"Why do you always spoil my fun, Remus?" Sirius whined with a mock pout directed towards the Professor.

Lupin looked up from his book slowly and gently pushed his wire-framed spectacles back onto his nose, looking over the lenses in exactly the same manner that he inspected his pupils. "And why don't you ever listen to me, Sirius?"

Padfoot grinned and folded his fingers into a gun-like shape, pretending to "shoot" at his partner. "Touche, Professor."

Lupin was eager to get back to his reading (_Entertaining Tales of Muggle Mischief and Madness_), but it appeared that Sirius wanted to talk some more.

"But still," the Animagus continued thoughtfully, "Who would've thought it, eh? Harry and Malfoy."

"We were the same," Lupin shrugged with a smile, his eyes glazing over with remembrance for just a few seconds. "An unlikely couple."

"Slow dancing to imaginary music?" Sirius scoffed and raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, Remus, we were hardly that … _soppy_."

"Oh, I seem to remember an event that happened during our sixth year on a summers night not entirely dissimilar to this one," Lupin said softly, and paused when Sirius' face showed no sign of familiarity. "You remember? When we stood together on this very balcony, slow dancing to imaginary music."

"Ah," Sirius remembered, blushing only slightly. "Point taken."

They fell silent again for a few minutes; Sirius lounging around lazily with his weight hanging over the stone wall of the balcony, and Lupin slowly flicking through the pages of his leather-bound book. Lupin eventually looked up, scratching his head.

"But I heard that Harry had been boasting about something to do with Ron," he noted with some confusion, and Sirius turned around.

"There _was_ an incident," Sirius explained, wandering over to Lupin's bench and plopping himself down. "An incident that involved Harry, Ron, a particularly sweaty Quidditch practice, and an empty broom cupboard."

"Ah."

"Harry was pretty pleased about that for a while, yes," Sirius mused, nodding along slowly with his thoughts. He crossed his legs and slouched into the bench, folding one arm across the back and sneaking the other around Lupin's shoulders. "And, by the sounds of my charmed binoculars – " Sirius' eyes twinkled mischievously, " – Draco got pretty jealous. But – "

" – but tonight they kissed and made up – literally." Lupin smiled knowingly. Sirius sat up with interest, feigning surprise.

"What's this? A joke, from stuffy Professor Moony himself?" he cried mockingly.

"Spare me your sarcasm," Lupin said with a grin, and readjusted his glasses. As he made to return once again to his reading, one of Sirius' strong hands landed broadly on the page. The owner of the hand leant in close to Lupin's ear.

"Books are for bed," he whispered in a sing-song voice. Lupin cocked a sceptical eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he played along. "I could have sworn you preferred much more _exciting_ activities in bed than reading, Padfoot."

Sirius shuffled himself closer still, his face so close to Lupin's that Sirius' nose nudged the arm of his partner's spectacles. Sirius' other arm had found itself on Lupin's shoulder, clutching onto him tightly.

"And you?" Sirius prompted in his husk, dog-like tones.

"And I…" Lupin said slowly, bowing his head a little and turning his head to meet Sirius'.

"You…?" Sirius lengthened out the word; he was enjoying this game.

"And I…" Lupin repeated. In the next instant, he planted a soft kiss on Sirius' waiting lips. The shaggy haired man swooned with delight and leant forwards, eager for more. But suddenly Lupin pulled away, and jumped to his feet.

"And I … have got to go and take my potion," Lupin finished on an anti-climax, giving his watch a quick glance. Sirius sighed hugely and flopped down onto the bench, sprawled out on his front. He pretended to sob into the wood for a few moments, before looking up. His dark eyes glinted in the moonlight, and he only noticed then that it was a full moon.

"I forgot about that," Sirius moaned with a pout. He brushed a clump of matted black hair behind one ear; it simply fell back down again.

"Well, it's a good thing _I_ remembered," Lupin said, a little stuffily; that was the teacher part of him, creeping up and escaping to the surface. He shifted about, straightening his robes. "Or I could well be gnawing at your neck right now."

Before Lupin had realised the double meaning of the casual comment that had just slipped from his mouth, Sirius' face broke into a cheeky grin, his slightly fanged canine teeth showing.

"Don't tease me, Lupin," he joked. Lupin's face contorted into many different expressions, his mouth twisting with confusion, before he finally settled on casual indifference.

"Are you coming, or not?" Lupin asked genuinely, and when Sirius' face broke into yet another mischievous grin, Lupin gave himself a light smack on the forehead. Another comment with a double meaning, which would have meant nothing to most people - but Sirius never failed to notice these things. The shaggy-haired man rose to his feet, still smirking broadly.

"You know something, Sirius," Lupin sighed, but he was smiling. "You have all the maturity of a first year student."

"Would you expect anything less?" Sirius beamed. Lupin looked up into his glittering eyes.

"No, Sirius," he said honestly, as Sirius looped his arm through his own, and the pair headed for the entrance that lead off the balcony, back into Hogwarts. "No, I would not."


	3. Lighten Up

"KAMIKAZE!"

"Ron, just come over here and sit down. And be quiet."

It was a quiet night in the Gryffindor common room – quiet, that is, apart from Ron Weasley's feet thumping on the royal red-carpeted floor as he zoomed around with his school tie wrapped around his forehead.

"Oh, c'mon, Hermione," he panted breathlessly while leaning over the back of a huge leather chair, a delighted grin on his face. "Lighten up."

Hermione Granger peered out from behind her large textbook and expertly raised a shaped brown eyebrow in her typical exasperated manner. Hermione was an excellent student, an extremely clever young girl with no time for idiocy, and she had perfected this certain 'look' to use on people in just this kind of situation.

"I can lighten up as soon as the Defence Against The Dark Arts test we have tomorrow is finished and out of the way," Hermione explained gently, as if talking to a young child, "Because then-"

"Because then you can relax and have some fun?" Ron completed, swinging his arms from side to side and pretending to dance.

"Because then I can get started on my Potions essay," Hermione finished. Ron stopped dancing and sighed.

"I shoulda known,' he said. Hermione shook her head at him and was happy to return to her book. Ron slid into the leather chair opposite her.

"Heat up, please,' he requested. Hermione looked at him over the top of her book again.

"Do it yourself,' she replied. Ron picked up his wand, which had been resting on the table nearby along with some half-eaten sweets and crumpled up sheets of parchment. He gazed sadly at the wand for a few moments, considering something.

"But Hermione," he whined in protest, a pleading look on his face, "You_ know _I'm rubbish at this."

Hermione's hazel eyes twinkled as her pretty mouth broke into a mischevious grin.

"I know,' she smiled. "But you're going to have to learn how to do it sooner or later, Ron."

Ron rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and stood up, shaking out his hands and feet.

"Okay, here we go," he told himself, raising his wand and shaking that out too. He pointed it at the fire and gave it a swing. "_Flamaro, risup_!"

Nothing happened. Hermione giggled quietly. Ron raised his wand up again.

"_Flamaro, risup_!" he cried, and there was a massive cough from the fire, the flames bellowing up for just a second before black smoke began billowing out from the old fireplace. While Ron panicked, leaping back and throwing various spells at the mess, Hermione sat relaxed in her chair and held up her wand to the blazing fire.

"_Wataro_," she said calmly, and the flames and smoke instantly vanished under a gentle stream of water. When it had disappeared, she raised her wand again and said gently, "_Flamaro, risup_."

The flames grew only slighty, cracking at the firewood and making the temperature just a little higher, so it was now comfortably hot.

"Thank you," Ron, looking slightly singed around the edges, muttered before collapsing back into his chair and sighing. "Time for bed yet?"

"You can go up if you want," Hermione said distractedly as she returned to her work, "I'll stay down a bit longer."

"Nah, that's okay," Ron quickly answered. "I'll keep you company."

Hermione finally took a second to put down her book and look at Ron properly.

"You miss Harry, don't you?" she asked with concern, smiling sweetly. Ron shuffled about uncomfortably in his seat.

"O-Only as a friend," he stammered, just a tiny pinch of dishonesty to his voice. "I don't really care about that thing that happened before, y'know."

"The kiss?" Hermione checked. This made Ron blush furiously.

"Yes, yes, the – _kiss_," he blurted, almost looking ashamed. "Look, it's not a big deal. I don't like him in that way, it was a one off. I'm pretty sure I like girls."

"Oh? Anyone in mind?" Hermione asked casually, pressing her lips together as she did so. Ron tugged at his collar and loosened the top few buttons of his shirt, and pulled the tie from his head. He shifted along in his chair, perching on the edge of the seat, and his knee brushed against Hermione's.

"A few lucky girls," he joked, a grin splitting his freckly face in two. "I've whittled it down, wasn't too difficult…"

Hermione tried not to look too interested in this comment, as Ron began scratching at his neck. Then, he noticed Hermione was staring at him with her glistening eyes. Her hair was long, glossy, and beautifully curled, ending just above her chest. Her uniform was neat, with her shirt buttoned right up and her tie still perfectly in place, though it was well past midnight and lessons had been over for hours. Without thinking, Ron slowly reached forward and tugged at her tie, loosening it just slightly. Surprisingly, she didn't react, just watched as the red-haired boy then proceeded to undo half of her shirt buttons, starting at her neck and stopping when her breastbone became exposed. Ron was sure he caught a glimpse of a diamante bra decoration twinkle in the light as Hermione twisted her body a little, so he decided to leave it at that.

"Is this to help me … lighten up?" Hermione asked curiously. Her lips had become plump and full of blood, making them glow pink. Ron simply nodded.

"You're a very pretty girl, Hermione," he told her truthfully. "Just let your hair down every now and then. Then guys will really go for you."

"There's only one guy I want to go for me," Hermione whispered, now leaning in closely to Ron – but he didn't understand.

"Is there really?" he asked delightedly, rubbing his hands together and eager to hear some gossip. "Who is it?"

Before he knew it, Hermione had leapt up and thrown herself onto Ron's lap.

"It's you, Ron!" she hissed urgently in his ear while wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck. "It's always been you! Now, _please_ will you kiss me!"

Ron didn't argue; he gently placed each of his hands on the sides of Hermione's face before tugging her closer and planting a sweet kiss on her soft lips.

"Hermione," he smiled at her, brushing hair behind her ears. "You may now consider yourself officially lightened up."


	4. I'm Over You

"I'm over you, Harry."

It was breakfast time on the morning after the three nighttime liaisons. Harry had already been sat at the Gryffindor table in the main hall for just over half an hour, eating a cooked breakfast and having a muse over _The Daily Prophet _which Hedwig had dropped in for him, when he soon found himself listening to Ron's freckled face. Apparently, he had had a lot of time to think since the kiss – a.k.a The Really Big Thing That Happened In The Broom Cupboard - happened.

"But I don't want what happened between us to change our friendship," Ron finished sincerely, his hands fidgeting and crawling across the table, almost as if he wanted to reach for Harry's hand, but didn't dare.

Harry paused for a second, studying his best friend across the table. He then shrugged, appearing not to care.

"Fine by me," Harry agreed quietly down into his plate, turning back to _The Daily Prophe_t. Ron leant back into his chair with satisfaction and scooped up a forkful of his own breakfast.

Now Ron had done his piece, the black-haired boy felt like doing a bit of teasing.

"Heard you and Hermione last night," muttered Harry, his voice barely audible. Ron heard him clearly, but smacked the table as he leant inwards abruptly to hiss, "What!"

"Relax," Harry grinned mischievously, tapping the side of his nose with one finger and whispering, "Our little secret."

"I highly doubt that, Harry," a bossy girl's voice said, and Hermione slid in the seat next to Ron. "Over the past weeks you've shown all the tell-tale signs of being a bit of a big mouth."

"Mornin', Hermione," Harry greeted her as he slid innocently behind his paper. Hermione snatched at the front of it, yanking it down. Harry was met with her smirking face.

"You and Draco were up rather late in the common room, weren't you?" she asked innocently. Ron looked at her with great interest.

"You what?" he questioned of her. Hermione nodded slowly. Ron then turned back to Harry and asked the same question in the same tone. "You what?"

Harry nodded, seeming quite proud of himself, though a little bashful at the same time.

"Wait, wait. You got _Malfoy_ into the _Gryffindor_ common room?" Ron squeaked with disbelief. "Wow, Harry, you must be the master of persuasion."

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged modestly. "I'm in high demand."

Ron looked thoughtful. It was a fair point.

"Oh yes, that's right," Hermione confirmed as Harry disappeared further and further behind his newspaper. "The girl's dorms are a lot closer to the main common room area than the boy's, so you wouldn't have heard, would you, Ron?"

"Heard what, exactly?" Ron raised a quizzical eyebrow. From what the two could see of the top of Harry's head was now blushing furiously.

"We were only talking!" he protested defensively. Ron looked over at Hermione with sheer delight on his face, relishing in the gossip. She shrugged.

"I'm saying nothing more," she said sweetly, and caught Harry's eye. She tapped the side of her nose with one finger and whispered, "Our little secret."

With that, she stood up, giving Ron a discrete squeeze on the shoulder as she did so, and left the main hall. Ron watched her go before turning back to Harry, who was once again engrossed in his reading.

"Er, I think I'm gonna go, too," Ron coughed. "Got, um, work to do. See ya, Harry."

As soon as Ron had left (in a matter of seconds, jogging after Hermione and catching up with her), Harry rolled his eyes. Honestly. Ron? Work? He was such an unconvincing liar. Irritated, Harry flicked out his paper and tried to concentrate. His meal finished, he gave a casual swing of his wand without even looking at the plate, which magically cleared itself and disappeared. But something – or rather, someone – appeared in its place. It was Draco Malfoy. Harry looked up at the blond boy with confusion.

'What are you doing on this table?' he asked in surprise, slightly accusingly. Draco looked a little upset, and shifted about on the bench opposite Harry.

'I've come to talk to you,' Draco whispered, ignoring the curious stares and muttering wafting over from the concerned Slytherin table.

It was all Harry could do to not roll his eyes and tut extremely loudly. Hadn't the boy done enough talking and whining last night? Harry had had to kiss him for hours just to get him to shut up for two seconds. But still, Harry thought as he admired Draco's sweet rounded face and slicked blond hair, it was worth getting your ear talked off for.

Harry boldly grasped Malfoy's hand and squeezed it tight, suddenly not caring if a few pupils on the Slytherin table happened to notice. So he would get teased about it, so what?

'Okay, Malfoy,' he nodded. 'What about?'

Draco smiled, and leaned in closer, opening his free hand, which had been curled into a fist. In it was a hand-written note, which he handed to Harry without unfolding it.

"Not here," Draco said dramatically, nodding his head at the note before sliding his hand along Harry's and letting go, leaving the main hall with a flick of his cloak. Harry ground his teeth and unfolded the note.

_Meet me under the clock tower at 2._

'Gimmie a break,' Harry puffed out with exasperation. What did Draco think this was, some sort of romance novel? That was Harry's first thought. The second was that he must remember to try and control his temper, and not get so easily irritated. But the latter was proving to be somewhat difficult, what with a highly sensitive and emotional rival-slash-lover. Not to mention friends who took great pleasure in winding you up at every possible opportunity.

But then, isn't that what friends are for?


End file.
